


Fake True Love Potion

by Writing_Blues



Series: Our Story [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Elezen Warrior of Light - Freeform, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sleep Deprived WoL, Someone Ban The Fae From Making Potions, love potions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22616263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_Blues/pseuds/Writing_Blues
Summary: The times the WoL screwed up and ends up giving the True Fake Love Potion to everyone but that one particular Nu Mou.OrThe WoL is sleep deprived. Makes bad decisions and ignores the voice of reason in his head.
Series: Our Story [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614463
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Fake True Love Potion

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea from a while. If you can't guess from the title already, its a potion you receive from Uin Nee under the quest 'The Chaser'.
> 
> Its a great quest, I had a good laugh when I read about it. In all honesty I never realised what the heck the quest was even about until that one time I paid attention and didn't just skip through dialogue. And I only did so because my eyes happened to scan through the part where the Nu Mou called my toon a 'divine visage'. So I couldn't help and went 'what the fuck was that about?' and paid closer attention.
> 
> Somewhere down the line this idea sort of popped in my head. And I wasn't able to get it out of my mind so I just cave and wrote it out. 
> 
> Also this story is written from the viewpoint of my own toon. An Elezen warrior of light. Though anything based on the Our Story series is gonna be from his viewpoint anyway. I do hope you enjoy reading this fic as much as I did writing it. (Minus the part where I sacrificed my sleep time to get it out of my system)

“.... Go and test the potion!”

A potion bottle was dropped into his open palm when Uin Nee motioned for it, and he had a moment to wonder how was it possible that the tiny fae was able to hide a potion about the size of its body. 

Not that it matters, he mused, the only reason he was here was so he could earn his daily tokens. And further his ‘reputation’ with the fae folk, which had seemingly proved to only make them want to turn him into a leafman all the more. All so he could be their ‘plaything of light’ forever.

Shoving the bottle into his back, he supposed anything that’s liquid and inside a bottle should be handled with the _utmost of care_ when its given to you by a fae. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It was the same old business in the end: Go to point A, dump the surprisingly volatile liquid onto that poor Nu Mou who had no business at all to be a fae’s experiment, and then back to Point B. 

Basically a glorified poster boy of light. Even pulled across time and space that title seemed insistent in following him to his grave.

In the back of his mind, he swore he heard Fray grumbled something sinister. Even if he hadn’t exactly heard it, anything that came from Fray was either dirty or sinister. 

The grumble became louder.

Running his fingers against the beautiful glowing green feathers of his mount, Marlais considered if he should approach Urianger again about his ‘mind’ problem. Though knowing the scholar, he’d just be handed a bag of sleeping potions and a very concerned look. 

_Focus. Focus._

Blinking the blurriness from his eyes, he steered his mount to the ground when he’d finally reached the Nu Mou’s settlement. It would’ve been faster if he’d travelled by Aetheryte, but something tells him it wouldn’t be a good idea to go swimming in the lifestream after… when was the last time he slept?

Not that it matters, he mused whilst giving an affectionate pet to the golden beak of his mount, he’ll plant his face into a soft pillow after he handled this quest. Or was it three quest?

Reaching into his bag, his eyes scanned the settlement for a particular Nu Mou. It was a good thing he’d been gifted the Echo, since all the Nu Mous looked exactly the same to him. And people tell him that Elezens were hard to differentiate, have they _seen_ a population of Nu Mous yet?

 _Probably not_ , his mind answered as he started walking when he spotted that one specific Nu Mou. _They’ve definitely never heard of the lalafellin race either._

Hands reaching into his bag, he fiddled around the contents in search of that potion bottle with the pink liquid. Clumsy fingers pushing through crafting materials and monster body parts until finally they seemed to brush against the cool sensation of what could definitely only be the glass bottle of a potion. 

Fishing it out quickly, he squinted at the bottle in his hand. Was the liquid supposed to be this dark?

Holding it up above him, he positions the potion bottle to the nearest light source. It glowed a bright pink, yes, but he’d also went through the headache of discarding something he thought he didn’t need only to later find out that yes, he does indeed require a _broken magiteck key_ for twelve knows why. 

_Focus. Focus._ He’s pretty sure that’s not his mind voice. 

Twisting the lid, the bottle gave a satisfying pop when he pulled it out. Bringing the opening to his nose, he gave a tentative sniff. Coughing on a choke when his nose was assaulted by the smell of spices and things he doesn’t want to know. 

He squints down at the bottle again, before finally shrugging and just bringing it to his lips. Only to start choke on a gag reflex when he spits out the tiny sip he’d taken, the liquid foul and acidic on his taste buds.

_Its a expired Ether potion._ His mind helpfully supplied. He doesn’t ask why he knew how a expired Ether potion tasted like. 

Carelessly throwing the potion aside, he ignored the sizzling sound that followed after in favour of rummaging through his bag again. Sighing in frustration when after a few minutes of searching, he’d ended up cleaning his inventory than finding the damn potion Uin Nee had given him. 

Something in his mind tells him he’s forgetting something important. He listened to it and took to rummaging a smaller bag labeled ‘Key Items’.

Ah. There it was. Why didn’t he think of looking at his ‘important’ bag before? 

_Sleep. You need sleep._ Yes, yes he does indeed. 

He quietly admired the liquid in the potion bottle, the soft pink liquid shining a pinkish light on his hand. 

_Focus!_ Right right, what was he supposed to do again?

_Throw the liquid on the Nu Mou, then back to point B._ What would he ever do without that helpful voice in his mind?

_Drown in a pond. Pet a Nu Mou. Grab the Exarch’s Tail. Tell Thancred he needs a haircut-_

A ringing sound cuts through the thoughts in his head, and he reached into his pocket to take out the buzzing linkpearl. Carefully pushing it into the space in his ear only after the buzzing stopped.

Like a radio being adjusted, a voice cracks to life after a few seconds when the pearl latched onto a connection. 

_“Marlais?”_

He blinks at the familiar voice. He gave his brain a couple of seconds to put a name to it before opening his mouth. 

“Hello, Thancred.”

_“Do you have a moment? Urinager just gave me his latest update on Eden, and he wants you to hear it. The man would’ve came himself but he couldn’t leave in case there’s any new changes from Eden. And Ryne wanted to borrow more books from his place at the bookman’s shelves.”_

He nodded absently, only later realising that Thancred couldn’t see him when the man stopped talking through the linkpearl to wait for a response. 

“I’m at il Mheg.”

_“You are? Great. Meet us at the bookman’s shelves, I’ll see you outside while Ryne finds her books.”_

Nodding again, he paused midway on the action when he remembered again that Thancred couldn’t see him. Not that it matters, he mused again, as the man had already cut the connection after deciding on their rendezvous.

Slipping the pearl out of his ear, he puts it back in his pocket to replace it with a mount whistle. Bringing it to his lips, he blew on it and was rewarded with the cheerful chimes of a dozen bells. 

Bouncing side by side on their fins, the Namazus greeted him with a wave of their fin that wasn’t holding up the tiny shrine on their backs. Reaching down to give each of them an affectionate pat on the head, he balances himself on the wood and gripped onto the shrine for dear life on one hand when a light breeze lifts it up. 

Looking down, he watched as the Namazus clung onto the very same wood they had been supporting for dear life, their plump bodies swaying almost comically against the wind as he steered them towards the Bookman’s Shelves. At least he wasn’t the only one fearing for his life. 

Without the fear of having to dodge monsters or worry about any stray beast that may find a squishy walking catfish to be delicious, they landed quickly enough at the bookman’s shelves. Stepping off the shrine, he waved a small goodbye to the Namazus as they waddled back from wherever they came from. 

The Exarch, he thought, was a phenomenal man. He should really treat him to some sandwiches one day, even if he has to drag said man away from his Exarch duties by the tail. 

“Marlais! Over here.”

Looking behind him, he turned around and started walking when Thancred beckoned to him. The man had his arms crossed by the time Marlais reached, leaning against the oakwood of the Bookman’s shelves as he offered a greeting smile. 

He returned it, happy to see one of his friends again. 

“Its a good thing you’re around here, save us a trip to go hunting down for you. I know you've got a lot of warrior of light stuff to do, so I won’t take up much of your time. Let’s get right on to it then..”

Nodding to Thancred, he watched as the man took out a few papers with the familiar neat scrawls of Urianger’s handwriting on it. And braced himself for at least an hour of dry reports that can easily be disguised as a drunk poets ramblings. 

* * *

At some point, he found himself leaning his back against the wood of Bookman’s Shelves beside Thancred. Stacks of paper in hand which he’d taken from the man, having taken pity on Thancred when the other struggled to make sense of Urianger’s writing. 

Eyes scanning slowly through the neat scrawls, he nodded softly at Thancred’s summarized reports. It wasn’t that he thought the man stupid, or lesser when it came to the more academic aspects of their work. But it takes a nerd or a long term friend to be able to understand the poetic scholary ramblings of Urianger, who loved his work enough to try and squeeze art into it. Which was made worse when you pair that with complex research regarding Aether, Dangerous white energies and Creation magicks. All squeezed into a few pieces of paper by a very passionate scholar. 

He was glad he was a mix of both. 

“And that’s the gist of it.” 

He gave another nod, eyes squinting at a paragraph that Urianger had very kindly underlined with two lines. Which meant the man underlined it twice. Which also meant it was super important. 

Which also meant he had to put extra effort to get his mental muscles working. And they ache oh so terribly from lack of sleep. 

He thinks he hears a disapproving grunt from Thancred, but he was squinting too hard at a mathematical formula to really respond to it. 

“When was the last time you slept?”

He blinks. When was the last time he slept?

He gave his brain a few seconds to come up with something, which must have stretched close to a minute when a sigh broke his thoughts. 

“Marlais.” Oh no. There’s the voice again. Thancred was using ‘the voice’ on him that he usually reserved for his ward. 

“I don’t know.”

He thinks he heard Thancred flex his fingers. And automatically brings the papers up to cover his face, his other hand nervously squeezing around the potion bottle he’d been holding.

Wait. Potion bottle? Why was he holding a potion bottle?

Thancred noticed, and he peeks tentatively over the papers when it seemed the man’s point of focus had changed. 

“What’s that?”

The bottle? Marlais shrugged, and would’ve stayed silent if Thancred hadn’t crossed his arms and gave him a look that said he wanted a more elaborate _spoken_ answer. 

“I don’t know. Fae Ether? I was supposed to give this to a Nu Mou.”

Which reminded him that he’d never exactly _asked_ Uin Nee what the potion was for. While he was sure the fae had explained to him each time he comes in for the daily quests, he had skipped out on it in favour of finishing his tasks as quickly as possible. All he knew was that the potion either had the Nu Mou handing him a very pretty looking letter or run away from him screaming as if they’ve bore witness to the deepest depths of void where the ugliest nightmarish voidsents lurked. 

Each time he’d resisted the urge to soothingly pat the Nu Mou. He really wants to do it. But it’ll probably just scare the poor thing more if he touched it. 

“Mind if I see it?”

Shrugging, Marlais handed the potion bottle over to Thancred. Who looks at him with a curious eye as the man turned it this way and that in his hand. Perhaps his eyes were getting too tired, but he thought he saw the liquid start to bubble when Thancred gave the bottle a firm shake. 

He should probably stop the man. Or make him stop shaking the bottle. Not that Thancred looked like he was about to do it again, seeing as his hand had moved to unscrewing the cap. 

The man probably shouldn’t do that. Wasn’t the liquid volatile? It did start to bubble when Thancred shook it. Oh. Oh no. The cap was slowly sliding out. Will he make it in time?

When his mind had finally decided that he should really stop Thancred, the man had already pulled the cap free. The same satisfying pop was echoes out between them, and Marlais watched with wide eyes when the pink liquid bursts forth and splashes Thancred _in the face._

True to its volatile nature, the liquid quickly evaporates as a sickly sweet smell permeates the air. He reached a hand up to cover his nose as he watched with pity when Thancred covered his own nose and started trying to cough his lungs out. Having inhaled the fume and more that had evaporated out from the now empty potion bottle. 

The Nu Mou hadn’t reacted this bad when he used the potion on it. Maybe because he’d simply popped the lid and directed the fumes towards the Nu Mou, instead of splashing it at its face. But the sickly sweet smell was definitely familiar. 

He fought not to gag, conjuring up a quick wind spell to blow away any lingering trace of the strong smelling fume. Do the fae include overripe fruits in their potions? He wouldn’t be surprised if they did in all honesty. 

“Thancred? You alright?”

The man didn’t respond, and Marlais watched with growing concern when Thancred only gave him a wide eyed look. The man’s eyes were glazed over, and he really hoped that whatever the fume did it didn’t damage them. 

“Thancred?”

Now more worried than ever, he reached a hand out to gently shake the man’s shoulder. A single twitch was his response, before the man shuddered hard and took in a sharp inhale. White brows furrowing as if in deep concentration, Thancred jaw clenched when Marlais shook him by the shoulder again. 

Illusion maybe? Aether pulsed underneath his skin as he focused its direction to his hand, an Esuna spell ready to be casted underneath his fingertips.

He calls out Thancred’s name again, just to be sure the man was indeed out of it. Another hard shuddered was his answer, and he gives the shoulder underneath him a reassuring pat as the first sign of an Esuna spell flowed from his palm.

The next thing he knows, his arms were grabbed tightly and pushed harshly against the wood of Bookman’s shelves, forcing him to completely press his back to it. Blinking a few times, his brain first registered the whiteness that was covering up most of his vision. Then a nose and lips. Then a pair of grey eyes that was staring at him intently. 

Marlais blinks again. He’s pretty sure what he heard falling were Urianger’s report papers, and hopes the scholar wouldn’t mind some mud as decoration. 

“...Um.”

Thancred was close. _Too close._ He could literally feel the man’s breath on his cheek, and any movement on his part seemed to only make Thancred tighten his grip to the point it made him wince. Damn the man and his new muscles from training as a tank. And damn that stupid potion bottle. What in Thaliak’s name was in there?

He notes that Thancred’s eyes were still glazed, and the man was gritting his teeth in what seemed to be an inner battle with himself. He was half tempted to knock the man out with a sleep spell, but decided that its better not to risk it. Knowing the Gunbreaker’s background as a rogue, he wouldn’t doubt that Thancred would know to choke him before he could even mutter the first few incantations of a sleep spell. Tank or no the man was still stupidly quick on his feet. 

And so, he tries again, being careful to not move too much if whatever illusion of him happened to be a certain ascian that-he-shall-not-name in Thancred’s eyes. 

“Thancred? It’s me, Marlais. You can hear me, right?”

The man twitched, and by the flexing fingers that were holding him down, Thancred could still hear him. 

“I’m going to cast Esuna on you, okay? I’m not going to hurt you. Just a quick Esuna. You know Esuna, right? Dispeling spell? For harmful effects?”

Another flex, and maybe he was seeing things but he swore Thancred seemed to be inching closer as time went by. Or maybe the man’s face was just that big, and for sanity’s sake he decided to go with the latter explanation. 

Fingers twitching, he wonders if he’ll be able to properly target Thancred with a well powered Esuna from his position. Then again he’d went through worse where he had to chase and Esuna down stupid adventurous who kept stepping into poison puddles or just outright eating a thunderbolt to the face with the jumpy kind of energy that a spooked chocobo would have. All within the chaos of having to keep a tank alive. 

So yes. He could indeed target Thancred. Whose mostly just a very tense and very close target and was that _warm breath on his lips?!_

“Thancred?”

Marlais doesn’t scream. He’s the warrior of light. Maybe darkness now? Ascian Slayer. Dragon Tamer. A primal’s boogeyman. Whatever else kind of title they seemed to fancy throwing his way because he doesn’t get to have a say in it. But the point was, he’s a toughened warrior with maybe a few screws loose on him which he blamed on Fray’s existence. But the _point was_. 

He. Does. Not. Scream. 

Yet he almost would have when he heard the soft tiny voice of Ryne calling out to her Guardian, if a gloved hand hadn’t shot up and firmly covered the lower part of his face. And it was a good thing it did, for it would’ve alerted Ryne to their location and Marlais could happily stick his staff with the pointy end up facing skyward and let himself fall on it if the young girl saw. 

But there was now a new problem. With Thancred covering his mouth, he can’t cast. He can’t cast if he can’t speak. 

Thancred had silenced him.

Marlais curses his life. 

He also proceeds to curse his heritage, only to hastily take back his word before he fully finished the words in his mind. It wasn’t his mother’s fault, twelve rest her soul, that he failed to inherit the Elezen gene of height from his father. But had he the height and size of Urianger instead of a Doman hyur, he might’ve been able to shake off Thancred and slap the man with a powerful Holy. They were the same height, which made it worse since he could see the man eye to eye. Which meant he could clearly see the glazed look, and it really made him itch for a cloth. 

In the midst of his own inner cursing, he doesn’t notice when Thancred inched closer. Ryne’s voice was getting louder, the girl holding a worried tone to her voice when it seemed no amount of calling had made her guardian respond or even appear. 

A nearby rustle had him tensing, and he wanted to scream his despair to the world when it prompted Thancred to move close enough that he noticed. Which was hard not to when you have a well muscled man with strength you knew can easily snap your neck if he so wished pressed _chest to chest_ kind of close. 

Thancred’s face was almost leaning close enough that their nose was pressing. Marlais wished the ground would open up and eat him. Bones and all. So he wouldn’t have to deal with this awkward situation. 

Just when he thought the man was going to bump foreheads with him, Thancred instead dipped his head down to rest his forehead on his shoulder. The man then proceeds to move closer until he was fully pressed against him. A soft grunt came from the man, and the hand that had been covering his mouth lets go when the rustling near them became softer. Followed by the soft click of a door closing. 

Leave it to Thancred to choose the meeting point to be at the back of the Bookman’s Shelves. Marlais wasn’t sure whether he wanted to punch the man or hug him. 

_Punch. Definitely punch._ His mind supplied. The useless thing. Where was it when he needed it?

Thancred seemed to decide for him when the hand on his other arm lets go, allowing him to flex it to encourage some blood flow on the appendage. Strong arms circled his waist, and Marlais was pulled into a bear hug that had him gasping out in discomfort when Thancred squeezed like his life depended on it. 

Okay. So the man wanted a hug. 

Clearing his throat, Marlais massaged his sore jaw first, then rubbed his hands together and proceeded to grip Thancred by the shoulder.He gave a harsh push enough to dislodge the man, then pushed one leg back and _knees_ Thancred _hard in the gut._

The man choked. Marlais doesn’t pause. When the man staggered back he raised a fist and a satisfying thwack of hard bone meeting soft cheek came next. 

Thancred slumps to the ground, knocked unconscious. Marlais absently shook the hand as his knuckles burned with a familiar ache. Being a healer main again made him too accustomed to gripping his staff instead of punching things, his knuckles weren’t happy. 

Looking down at the slumped figure of Thancred, he kneeled down and with a soft grunt, he balances the Gunbreaker on one shoulder. Damn the man and his new muscles from being a tank. Was he always this _heavy?_

Then again Thancred had been the one to carry his unconscious body down Vauthry’s sanctuary. Not that others could’ve done it beside Thancred.

_Maybe Urianger_ , his mind thought absently as he carried Thancred towards the main door of Bookman’s Shelve. _He certainly looked like he’d been bench pressing while I was gone._

Kicking the door open with his foot since his hand was busy with balancing Thancred and making sure the man didn’t slip off and possibly land on his face, he offered a greeting smile to a startled Ryne.

“... Is… is that Thancred?”

He re-adjusted his grip. “Yes.”

“...Is he okay?”

Marlais blinks. He wondered if it would be a good thing to tell Ryne that he’d just kneed her guardian in the gut before punching him in the face hard enough to knock him unconscious. 

After a while of careful thinking, with some worried fidgeting from Ryne, he settled with; “He will be.”

Ryne doesn’t seem convinced. Marlais was too tired to really care. 

Instead he started making his way up the stairs in Bookman’s Shelves. Considering this used to be where Urianger temporarily called shelter, there must be a bed upstairs. 

In his lack of sleep induced tiredness, he half expected to find a room with a bed made out of tomes. Or tomes strategically placed to resemble a bed. He was mildly disappointed to find only a normal bed, but was mostly glad he didn’t have to let Ryne see him unceremoniously dump her guardian on a pile of tomes. 

He looks down at Thancred’s passed out form. Then at the swelling redness of his cheek. Then turned around to face a worried looking Ryne. 

“He’ll be fine. Thancred’s tough as nails.” He reassured her, not knowing why he’s doing it when all that happened was Thancred taking a punch to the face.

“Are you okay?”

Marlais blinks down at Ryne, who was watching him with that same concern she’d directed at Thancred. 

“Do I not look okay?”

Ryne hesitates, as if she wasn’t expecting him to respond with that answer. Usually people would just say yes or no, not ask a question back. 

“You look… tired.”

He blinks again, the blurriness was more persistent now. When was the last time he slept?

“I’ll be fine. You take good care of Thancred until he wakes up, alright? Leave that swollen cheek, he deserved it.”

Ryne gave him a confused look, but nodded. Marlais smiled, and didn't resist the urge to reach out and pat affectionately on the top of that pink head. What a lovely young girl, he’s going to miss her terribly when the time comes to leave. 

He makes to leave, then pauses before turning back around and throwing a quick sleep spell on Thancred. Best to just let the man sleep through the drugs, lest he woke up before its completely purged from his system and traumatize his ward. 

Stepping out from Bookman’s Shelves, he made a beeline for the paper reports that’d been abandoned during Thancred’s weird episode. The poor thing was wrinkled and covered in some mud, and Marlais carefully rolled it up before placing it into his bag. 

He spots the broken potion bottle and toes it with a white boot carefully. 

Right. The quest. Now he needs a new bottle from Uin Nee. And while he does it he’s going to have to listen more closely this time. 

* * *

“Aww… you broke the first bottle?”

“It was an accident.” Not a complete lie. 

Uin Nee pouts, Marlais gave a blank stare. 

“Fiiiine. I’ll fetch you a new bottle. Be more careful with it this time! You adventurous are too rough. Do you know how hard it is to collect the ingredients and then ferment a love potion?” The fae whined. 

“No, I do no-. Wait. You mean this whole time I’ve been giving that Nu Mou a love potion?”

Uli Nee stared at him with a face a kid does when they found out the adult they’ve been hanging out with was not very smart. He didn’t even know fae’s could make a face like that, with their eerily innocent features and large, large eyes. 

It was an enlightening experience. 

“What did you think it was?”

He shouldn’t answer. Uln Nee was looking at him with a glint in their eyes. Not a good glint. 

“Ether.” 

The fae bursts into hysterical laughter, clutching their stomach as they twirled before him upside down repeatedly in what would be rolling on the ground with laughter for those without wings. 

“Y-You… you thought all this time you’ve been giving a Nu Mou _ether?”_ The fae choked out, still giggling behind their fingers. Big eyes peeking out at him through long nails. 

He doesn’t move to answer. He didn’t have to at all really as Uin Nee simply bursts into another fit of laughter in his face. And by the time the fae had calmed down enough to hand him another bottle, he was close to calling Feo Ul for help. 

“Here, Adventurer. Be a bit more careful next time will you? It wouldn’t do if this potion ended up being drunk by _someone else._ ”

Uin Nee grinned at him. Marlais wants to slap Uli Nee.

It would be pretty satisfying, he thinks, to smack the little flying annoyance to the ground like a bug. But that would get him in trouble with Feo Ul, and so he refrains from doing it. 

* * *

When Thancred wakes, he does so with a swollen and throbbing cheek. 

Ryne doesn’t seem to be able to provide any answer, so he found himself searching for Marlais with poultry bandaged to his swollen cheek. 

Turned out even the warrior couldn’t provide him with an explanation. The man had seemingly informed the Manager of Suites that no one was to disturb him while he slept. And if anyone tried to despite the warnings, to have the Manager of Suites write their names down so Marlais could personally deal with them when he’s up again. 

And so, Thancred with his swollen cheek, walks back where he came from and waited for a few days. 

Eventually he forgets about it. Maybe he’d encountered a monster while he and Marlais were discussing Urianger’s reports. And somehow or another got himself knocked out and carried to the Bookman’s Shelves bed. 

One thing he does notice, however, was that Marlais seemed to glare at Ether potion bottles like they had done him an injustice.


End file.
